


The Bad Decision Bears

by WatteauYouDoing



Series: Gifts of the Magi [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adventures in Parenting, Alcoholism, Asexual Sans, Defined Male at Birth reader, Other, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader is a nonbinary parent who has been through Too Much, Wizard AU, and quitting smoking, reader is a widower, the nonbinary stuff is frankly addressed btw, the story goes into issues of discrimination/homophobia/etc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-05-27 00:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6261292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatteauYouDoing/pseuds/WatteauYouDoing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One summer, a depressed, alcoholic wizard attempts to reconnect with their children and, on the way, somehow finds themselves in a strange, tentative relationship with a similarly damaged skeleton. </p><p>There's some love. There's some laughs. There's some mysteries - and, occasionally, you fall off the wagon. But, maybe - along the way - the both of you will find some way to be okay again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Frog Prince

**Author's Note:**

> HERE IT IS, MANY-NAMES SMOOCHING A SKELETON
> 
> So, this is a canon part of my Thaumatale series, and you'll get a lot more out of reading this if you've read the other parts of it, but it's pretty easy to start here.
> 
> PS my tumblr is glitterbark.tumblr.com - I post art there, reblog fanart, and people chat to me about Thaumatale. It's fun, you should come by!

It was summer, it was warm, and you were trying really, _really_  hard to swallow a panic attack.

It had only been for a moment - a _moment_ \- a brief deviation of attention while you contemplated the intricacies of your seven year old’s first foray into sand-castle building, but in that span of time, your daughter, Charlotte, had gone missing.

Of course, your mind immediately supplied about a million things that could have happened to her - including, but not limited to - kidnapping, dismemberment, maiming, drowning, sudden vehicular trauma... thoughts which you tried to stop with the reminder that, _she’s eleven, she’s responsible, she knows about basic traffic safety and not to follow strangers._

Still though, that prickling nervousness was building, and you had to focus really hard on just… breathing for a moment. Day _two_ of having your kids back for their school break and already you’d fucked up. Felix was looking up at you, now, clearly a little bit confused about why his parent had just suddenly stood up and made a quick, searching 360-degree turn, and oh boy, you were _not_ going to let him see that you were scared.

After taking those feelings and shoving them into a deep, dark pit inside of yourself, you smiled down at your son and said, “Hey, kiddo, let’s go find your sister, okay?”

He scowled in the way that young children were wont to do, clearly not fond of the idea. “Someone’s gonna take my _castle,_ ” he insisted, looking down at the assorted lumps of sand that formed all the little buildings. He’d even made a flag out of leaves - _adorable._

“No one’s gonna do that, bucko, it’d be illegal,” you assured him, taking his hand. The size different still staggered you - it was so hard to comprehend how _tiny_ children’s hands were. (Although, to be fair, your great paws were particularly large.)

Your assertion didn’t impress him in the slightest. “But I don’t _wanna,_ ” he whined, and, in the interests of time, you decided to make an offer that you knew he couldn’t refuse.

“Well, shucks… if you don’t come with me, how am I going to take you and Charlotte out for ice-cream? I guess if protecting your sand castle is more important...”

He perked up immediately, following along after you with clear eagerness. “I want ice-cream!”

“After we find Charlotte,” you assured before beginning your search for your wayward daughter, trying very, very, _very_ hard not to dwell on all of the horrible things that could have happened.

As far as city parks went, Melbourne Park was moderately sized, being home to a nice little pond and a proud association of towering oak trees. It was a bustling, popular place, filled with light, life, and noise, and upon looking around, you saw numerous groupings of people. High-schoolers playing a game with a Frisbee, a family on a picnic, an obviously nervous couple walking down the path... but nowhere did you see the characteristic gleam of Charlotte’s sparkly tights, nor the bright, pink-polka dotted shirt she seemed to want to wear every day.

(You blamed her eclectic fashion choices on her godmother.)

First order of business was to question the witnesses. Luckily for your nerves, an old couple on a bench had seen her - apparently, with another child, just about her age - running down the path that looped around the lake, and so, you set off, Felix in hand. Apparently, he’d overcome the sorrow of having to part from his castle, and was, instead, chatting your ear off about mushrooms. You made sure to nod at the appropriate points.

"So, mushrooms are, like -- they don't gotta eat light or anything, they just... grow!"

"Uh-huh?"

"And they eat things. Dead things! And some of them glow in the  _dark --_ "

“Ah! There she is!”  You looked down, immediately feeling guilty for interrupting. Man, you were glad at your ability to absorb information while not _really_ listening. “Glow-in-the-dark mushrooms, huh? Will you tell me more about 'em when we get our ice-cream?"

“Yeah!” That broad, toothy grin melted your heart.

Looking back ahead, you made your way over to reclaim Charlotte. She had, apparently, indeed made a friend - a brown haired child who was just a bit shorter than her and dressed much more mundane manner, wearing white shorts and a blue shirt. As you approached, you noted a number of grass stains on their knees, so you pegged them as either being active or being clumsy.

In front of them, on a bench, was a monster - a skeleton, to be precise, with round features and a wide smile. He was looking down at Charlotte, and she seemed to be…

...Sticking a hand in his eye socket?

 _Uh-oh._ You walked a bit quicker - although, you couldn’t take advantage of your full stride, given that you were still holding onto Felix’s hand. You weren’t going to find one kid and then immediately lose the other, after all. “Oi!” You called, lofting a hand. It was for the other two’s benefit rather than Charlotte’s -- she couldn’t hear you, after all.

Still, the monster and his apparent ward looked over, which got Charlotte’s attention, and oh, she just lit into the biggest smile as she signed, [Dad!]

(Your kids were the only ones who were allowed to call you that.)

She jumped up and down, beckoning you over, and you laughed, softly. [You had me worried,] you returned once you were close enough, and she had the decency to look sheepish.

[Sorry. I have a friend now!] She beamed, gesturing with both hands to the other child - who smiled sweetly and waved. Something looked itchingly familiar about their face… were they a regular here at the park, maybe? You weren’t very social, you had to admit, so you didn’t really have your finger on the pulse of interactions here.

It was when Charlotte spelled out their name for you - [F-R-I-S-K!] - that you realized why you knew them.

“The ambassador of the monsters..?” You mumbled to yourself, eyebrows going up. You wondered if Charlotte knew. Letting go of Felix’s hand - you were close enough, now, that it didn’t matter - you greeted them. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” you said to the both of them, speaking and signing at the same time - as you’d gotten used to doing, for Charlotte’s sake. You didn’t want her feeling left out, after all. Before you could name yourself, though, Charlotte grabbed your arm, dragging your attention to the pair.

[Look, dad!] she signed emphatically, pointing at the skeleton man lounging on the bench. [It fits!]

[What?] Your eyebrows went down - grammatically correct signing required putting your whole face into it - as you cupped your hands slightly in front of you, and then you looked where she was pointing.

It was then you noticed it.

There was a frog in the skeleton’s eye socket.

Your first reaction was to snort, because, holy shit, there it was, just staring at you with those giant, glossy eyes and _oh holy fucking christ it just ribbited at you, it was just there, chilling like it totally belonged._ But then you realized, oh fuck, was this offensive? Were you going to have to sit your daughter down to have a talk about speciesism? You weren’t emotionally prepared for this! And Felix had noticed, his mouth going into a little _o_ as he started reaching out to --

“Felix! You can’t just stick your hand in people’s eyes! It’s rude!” You grabbed his wrist as he tried to poke the frog, realizing half-way through that you should be addressing Charlotte, too.

“But there’s a _frog_!” Felix whined as if somehow, that meant putting his fingers right up in there was just a-ok.

“That doesn’t make it alright!” You turned to your daughter, then, [Sweetie, you shouldn’t harass the poor frogs, it’s rude. How would you feel if someone put _you_ in their eye?]

Her eyes practically sparkled, and you regretted your line of scolding immediately. [That would be so cool!]

Frisk was watching this, fascinated -- or, more particularly, they were observing your hand motions and how they paired with the words you were saying - but you didn’t have time to contemplate this, because it was, at this point, that the skeleton spoke.

“hey, don’t worry about it,” he drawled in a particularly casual tone. “i’m having a hopping good time.”

There was a pause as you just… stared at the shrugging skeleton, and then your gaze flicked to the frog, who proceeded to then hop away in a mighty display of leg strength. Charlotte made an adorable little distressed sound that you knew as her version of _no!_ as she lunged after it, but it was a frog, and far too fast for her, and she ended up falling on her face. Frisk - who had been reduced to helpless giggles by the pun - seemed inclined to aid her, scrambling forward as they tried to cup their hands around the amphibian.

It was equally ineffectual, and it made another mighty leap away. You _would_ have wondered how Charlotte had caught it in the first place, but at this point, Felix - not wanting to be left out - had joined in, and the three kids were having a perfectly grand time rolling around in the grass.

“Don’t hurt it!” You called out - somewhat meekly, due to the breadth of things you’d just had to deal with in the past five minutes - and you heaved yourself down on the bench beside the still-grinning monster. After having put your head in your hands, you managed a tired, “I’m _really_ sorry. Charlotte’s never been good about personal space.”

“hey, don’t sweat it. I think she’s a riot. you’re her parent?”

“Yeah,” you nodded with an exhausted sigh. “And you?”

“i’m their… uncle, sort of?” The skeleton shrugged again, nodding slightly in Frisk’s direction. “i watch them for their mom.”

“That’s nice,” you replied, leaning back and _finally_ starting to sort of come down from your initial adrenaline high. “Do you --”

It was then that you were interrupted by a cacophony of feet and some urgent gestures shoved in front of your face.

[Tell Charlotte that we’re going to go get ice-cream!] Felix signed before shooting a glare to his older sister.

[I don’t want any! I want to keep playing with Frisk!]

[Well, you’re a _butt,_ and _stupid,_ and - ]

“Hey now!” You waved your hands in the middle of their argument, preparing for another round of child juggling. You’d forgotten how hard it was to keep up with them. Frisk lingered a few feet away, concern on their face, and so you translated your end of the conversation for their benefit. “I _did_ promise Felix we could get some ice-cream, but the shop isn’t very far. I’m certain we could come back and play with Frisk…?” You glanced at the monster beside you briefly, asking for his opinion.

[I don’t want to go!] You saw Charlotte sign, but before you could respond, you heard a dull chuckle reverberate from the skeleton’s chest.

“hey, kid,” he asked, directing his attention to Frisk. “you wanna go out for a snack with your new friend?”

Immediately, they lit up, a sun-like beam arcing across their face. They nodded quickly, scampering up to join the rest of you - and their self-titled “uncle” pushed himself up with an exaggerated _oof._ He looked over at you - goodness, you hadn’t quite realized how short he was (or were you just tall?) - and put his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “That okay with you?”

You let out a great, relieved whoosh of air, conveying the change of plans to Charlotte - who was similarly brimming with delight, and ran over to Frisk, signing something that was clearly too quick for them to catch. After a gesture, she slowed down, and the brief conversation was enough for you to get a pretty good feel for Frisk’s fluency. They knew a couple of words - and they were pretty good at fingerspelling - but otherwise, they were a complete novice. Maybe they learned in school?

Clearly, Charlotte was excited to teach them, and they were excited to learn.

After this, the motley of menaces were much easier to usher about - and you looked down at the monster beside you, gratitude on your features. “Thank you. I’m totally willing to pay for you and Frisk, since you weren’t planning on going out.”

“nah, no way. It’s my…” he paused. “ _treat_.”

You squinted at him. “...did you just say that to make a pun, or are you actually trying to offer to buy me ice cream?”

“yes.”

“...That was _extremely_ not helpful,” was your dry reply.

“sure wasn’t.” He grinned.

You sighed, deciding not to worry about it. Instead, you decided to give him a name to know you by - not _your_ name, mind, that was private information. “I’m Heinrich, by the way - I'm a wizard.”

“sans,” he replied after a brief, contemplative squint at you. “sans the skeleton.”

“Man. I _never_ would have guessed.” For the first time today... you were actually starting to feel a little bit  _calm._

(Only a little, though, you were always sort of half-prepared for some cataclysmic, devastating tragedy to happen.)


	2. The Ice-Cream Man

As much as you loved Charlotte having a friend in town, you were really starting to appreciate how helpful she was in managing Felix.

It wasn’t fair, you knew, you were certain she’d had just about enough of her brother by now. Her patience with him was nothing short of miraculous; Felix still thought boogers were funny, after all, and Charlotte had long since grown out of that stage in her quest to be  _mature_ and  _responsible_ . And, despite her remarkable independence - (she _never_ let her peers dictate her habits or interests) - she wasn’t entirely immune to the judgement of those in her age bracket. You knew how embarrassing little brothers could be. (Not that you’d spoken to yours in years, of course.)

This meant that, as a parent, it was your responsibility to make sure Felix didn’t go humiliating his big sister in front of her new friend. This, of course, meant entertaining a hyperactive seven year old _brimming_ with sugar-driven energy while you occasionally flicked your gaze to the bench that Charlotte and Frisk had decided to inhabit. 

You weren’t entirely certain where this fascination with mushrooms came from. It wasn’t like his godmother was a particularly outdoorsy person - hell, Madame Hardtack had a rather strange love of the concrete jungle - but he had, apparently, acquired an encyclopedic breadth of knowledge since you’d seen him on his spring break, and boy-howdy was he excited to share it all with you. Worse yet, just nodding along wasn’t doing it for him. He was, apparently, enthused by the idea of playing teacher, and this demanded that you be a good student and ask questions.

Normally, this wouldn’t be too hard - he was seven, after all, it wasn’t like you needed to sound particularly intelligent - but out on the patio of the ice-cream shop, surrounded by the nice breeze and the chirping of the birds... you were, for some reason, reminded of how nice smoking was.

You were not, of course, going to let yourself have a cigarette, because you were serious about quitting this time. You had to set _some_ semblance of a decent example for your kids.

This left you with a pounding headache and a buzzing, anxious _itch,_ but you could do it. You could play it cool. Normally, in this circumstance, you’d get something to take the edge off - you kept lollipops on hand to give you something to do with your mouth - but you knew that would mean _Felix_ would want one, and you weren’t too keen on letting him have more high-sucrose foodstuffs… nor did you have the strength within you to say no at the moment.

This, of course, made you feel like an even shittier parent, which obviously lead to more anxiety, and the cycle continued until -

Shit. Felix wanted you to ask a question. (Why did you think trying to take care of your kids was a good idea, again?)

“i got one for you,” Sans interrupted, leaning across the white, prettily patterned metal table. The red-and-white umbrella shaded you from the sun, and you could see the pinpricks of his eyes a bit better in the shadow. Felix looked over at him, his eyes squinted suspiciously; Sans was still some weird, strange adult, after all. “why do mushrooms like to go to parties?”

Holy shit, that had to be one of the oldest jokes in the book. Anything farther back and you’d have to get into _dinosaur_ humor.

(Why couldn't you hear a pterodactyl go to the bathroom? Because the _p_ is silent, ha- _ha._ )

“...Mushrooms don’t go to parties. They don’t have brains,” Felix said, his tone filled with a resounding _duh._ Oh god, you loved kids, you thought as you desperately restrained a laugh.

“actually, you’d be surprised,” Sans said with a wink. “some mushrooms are pretty _fun guys._ ”

Holy fucking christ, you were watching a skeleton waggling his nonexistent eyebrows. Between that and Felix’s _completely unimpressed _ statement of, “That’s stupid,” you couldn’t hold it in. You snorted in a quite undignified manner, quickly trying to hide in your shoulder. You weren’t going to be caught dead laughing at that joke.

“okay, okay, this isn’t about mushrooms, but do you wanna see a cool trick?”

Felix glanced at you, and you nodded slightly, letting him know this was fine. After a pause, he said, “...Alright,” then peered at him as he took a bite of his triple-chocolate chip ice-cream (complete with rainbow sprinkles.)

“okay, watch _this._ ” With that, Sans picked up his hand, wiggling his fingers in a playful gesture, and then…

He grabbed onto his index finger, and yanked it off.

“Woah!” Felix shouted, eyes bugged out and ice-cream tipping out of its cone precariously. He caught it, thankfully, and you noted that he had chocolate smudges around his mouth. Secretly, you were glad for his exclamation - it had covered up your own little noise of shock. “You can take your _fingers_ off?”

“sure can. I can also do _this._ ” After wagging the dislocated finger at your son, Sans took it,  and… shoved it into his nose-hole.

Enraptured by this display of juvenility, Felix laughed, pointing at Sans and looking up at you. “Dad, he put his _finger_ up his _nose!_ ”

You took the opportunity to lightly dab at his face with a napkin. “He certainly did.”

“Look at it! It’s _all_ the way up there!” He bounced in his seat, and took another big bite of ice-cream, totally spoiling your work.

Encouraged by this, Sans tipped his head back and, with an odd rattling noise, he inhaled his finger. After a moment, he stuck his hand through his eye-socket, and withdrew the digit for Felix’s contemplation.

“How did you _do_ that?”

“magic,” Sans drawled, and then reconnected the bone to the empty joint, flexing his hand after. It made an odd sort of popping noise, reminding you vaguely of a suction cup. From the corner of your eye, you could see Charlotte teaching Frisk the words for ‘boy’ and ‘gross’. It didn’t take a lot of imagination to figure out what they were talking about.

They looked perversely amused, though, so you figured Charlotte and Frisk weren’t too embarrassed by their immature relatives.

“I wanna do magic like that!”

“hmm… actually, tell you what. i’ll teach you a little trick, okay?”

You were about to get kind of worried, but Sans glanced at you, brandishing the full intensity of his grin at you and finishing it off with a small wink. It was then that you realized… that you were actually feeling pretty calm now that the attention had been taken off you. Casually, easily, without even letting anyone know he’d been doing it - Sans had just given you some space to breathe.

A warm, gentle feeling filled your chest, and you felt your mouth soften into a tender smile as your shoulders eased a little more. Of course, that little voice still plagued you - _god, he noticed, how obviously shitty at this are you? -_ but… seeing your son laughing took the edge off of that, a bit.

“Okay! I wanna see!”

“watch this.” You recognized the trick - back in your day, the older children had lorded such sacred knowledge over the playground. But -- you couldn’t ever remember having shown Felix something like this, so his surprise was understandable when, seemingly by magic, Sans swiped one hand over the other and pulled off his thumb.

At first, Felix didn’t look impressed; it was just the tip of his thumb, after all, he’d just seen better. But, then, the skeleton spread out his hands, revealing that, no -- nothing incredible had occurred, his hands were completely intact.

“...I can do that?”

“yeah, here, gonna need both your hands for this, so -- “

Before he could finish, you reached out, plucking Felix’s cone out of his hand. Miraculously, he didn’t complain - a true testament to how much fun he was having. “Show me!” Felix demanded, holding out both of his hands.

“okay, so you take your hand like this… can I?” Sans began, hands stopping short of Felix’s. He nodded quickly, beaming, and he maneuvered the child’s (presumably sticky) fingers. You didn't quite remember how to do it, but it required some creative joint-bending. Moving Felix's fingers, Sans constructed the illusion - and Felix shifted so he was on his knees in the chair, bending over so he could properly see what Sans had done.

Having one hand occupied by an ice-cream cone made it difficult to fish around in your pants pocket, but you managed it, anyway, extracting a small mirror and setting it in front of your son. With a flick of your thumb, you snapped it open - giving Sans a full view of its elaborately sparkly top. You weren’t the most ornately dressed of the wizards, but you did have some cute shit, so, hey. Props to you.

Felix repeated the motion Sans had shown him, now using the mirror -- and he beamed, realizing that, yes, with a single sleight-of-hand trick, he too could perform the magic of finger fragmentation. “That’s sick!”

“heh. make sure to only use your powers for good, kid.”

“I’m gonna show Charlotte!” Without hesitation, Felix pushed himself off the chair, sliding it across the wooden deck with a scrape of metal. Abandoning his ice-cream to your care, he bumbled over to his sister, waving his hands about in a flurry of excited signing as he explained _everything_ that just happened. You smiled - it was… nice to see, and then - knowing that, for the moment, they were safe - you turned your attention to Sans.

“Thank you.”

He looked over at you, eyebrows raised. “man, i’ve never been thanked for being a bad influence before.”

“Hah.” You picked up a napkin, wiping away some of the dribbling, chocolaty mess that threatened to invade your hand. “Don’t play dumb; you know what you did.”

Sans paused, contemplating you for a moment. You could hear Frisk giggling in the background. Then, “...well, you’re welcome, I guess.” His noncommittal tone made you laugh - but mostly at yourself, really, because it was such a stupid and petty matter. It’s the kind of thing that only would have meant anything to you.

(Because you’re a fuck-up who couldn’t keep up with your kids. That’s the joke. Haha.)

You were about to say something else when Sans shifted, putting his fingers around his wrist. “i’m always willing to…”

“Oh god no, don’t you dare - “

Pop. “...lend someone a hand.” And he presented it to you, grinning like he was just _so fucking pleased_ with himself.

Completely robbed of your energy, you put your forehead in your palm in abject misery. Christ, he fucking started poking you with his goddamn disembodied hand, and you couldn’t keep down a smile as you shoved it away with your wrist. That shit-eating grin of his somehow seeped into his voice, and his laugh was, perhaps, the most thoroughly punchable sound you’d ever heard in your life.

“That was so _weak,_ ” you said, and yet, somehow, you were laughing too  
  
“hey, i’ll have you know i’ve got a strong _grip_ on humor -- “

“I actually can’t believe you - _stop waggling your lack-of eyebrows, that looks ridiculous._ ” You gesticulated a bit too wildly with the ice-cream cone hand, and ended up splattering a few flecks of your son’s half-melted chocolate spit-cream on his face. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry --”

Sans rubbed at his face a bit, which was entirely ineffective given that his fingers were, well, bone. “hey, no problem, it’s -- “ he trailed off, squinting a bit.

You quirked a brow, picking up a napkin with your other hand. “...Uh-huh?”

The pause lengthened into a silence, then, “shit, i got nothing.”

“It’s fine. We all choke sometimes,” you assured him, lightly dabbing at the flecks he’d smudged around his bone.

“...uh- _huh,_ ” he said, and it took you a moment to understand the special emphasis he put on the word.

There wasn’t a lot you could say to that, so you just let out a quiet, “Uhhhhh.” Luckily -- or maybe unluckily, you weren’t sure which was less embarrassing at this point - Felix danced back over to your table, holding his hands out for the chocolate-soup in your hands.

“They liked the trick! They didn’t know how I did it,” he said proudly, and you were so happy not to be holding that gross, sticky mess any longer.

“‘Course they did; you pulled it off really well.”

You heard Sans snort across the table, and you were baffled for a moment before it hit you. “Ugh, that wasn’t even _intentional._ ”

“uh-huh.”

“I don’t get it,” Felix said, and you shook your head slightly, reaching into your pocket for one of the hand-wipes you kept there. You ripped open the little packet, unfolding it and wiping off your hands.

“Nothin’, sweetie, just a joke.” You watched Felix slurp at the melted ice-cream like he was drinking soup, which mildly grossed you out.

Oh well. You had more hand-wipes.

You saw movement from the corner of your eye, then, as Frisk and Charlotte stood up to dispose their little plastic cups. Taking that as your cue, you stood as well, looking down at Sans and Felix. “Wanna get back to the park, you two?” You said, stretching out your back. “Er, unless you need to get Frisk home, Sans.”

“naw,” he drawled, pushing himself off the chair. “tori deserves a break, and it’s not like i’ve got work today.”

“Oh! My sand-castle! Frisk and Charlotte haven’t seen my sand-castle!” Felix beamed, again, and you swore internally. You’d sort of hoped he’d have forgotten about it.

Ah well. If it had been trampled on and he started crying, you could probably deal with it, now. (Especially since you were pretty sure that Sans would help you out if you were in a pinch.)


	3. The Two Ministers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because i felt like it - enjoy! again, I won't be updating this regularly until Papyrus Dates a Bird is finished.

You hummed in sporadic bursts as if it would, somehow, make you feel less like shit.

Obviously, it didn’t - but perhaps it helped you put on a more good natured air, and as long as you could keep up appearances, you were golden. It didn’t matter how you felt, only how you acted, and you weren’t going to act like a grumpy asshole. Sure, you had a headache, you hadn’t slept, and you couldn’t quite keep that nervous twitch in your leg down, but… you could manage!

You could definitely manage.

“so, what’re you working on?” Sans asked next to you, and you flinched in slight surprise. You’d been so focused on keeping half your attention on Charlotte and Felix that you’d forgotten he was there.

“It’s… Wizard stuff,” you replied vaguely, looking down at the smoothed, circular piece of wood resting in your palm. With careful chinks, you’d carved designs into its surface, spiralling, twisting patterns that wound around a small divot marked into the center. You'd transformed the mundane into the mysterious with nothing but a small, silver knife, granting it power through an art that was ancient and old.

“huh. what kind of wizard stuff?” Sans leaned over, peering at you and your work. “is it a secret?”

“No,” you laughed, shifting the disc so he could see it better. “I just wasn’t sure how much explanation you wanted. It’s a present for a friend.”

You offered it to him and he took it, turning it over between his fingers. “will it do something? gotta say, i don’t actually know a lot about human magic, other than you guys can, y’know. make really good barriers.”

He gave you a look, and you winced slightly. “There’s a lot more to it than just that. This is a good luck charm - see here?” You reached over, tapping the center. “I’m going to put a piece of tiger’s eye in there when it’s done.”

“tiger’s eye? what’s that?”

Sans handed it back over, and you resumed carving. “It’s a type of stone that - er, how detailed do you want me to get here?”

“lay it all on me, buddy, it’s not like i’m going anywhere.”

You snorted before starting to blather. It was clear to see where Felix had gotten his info-dumping tendencies from. “Tiger’s Eye is a type of chatoyant quartz - that is, it’s a mineral that reflects light in luminous, thin bands. They kind of look like the pupil of a cat’s eye, and that - along with the brown and gold coloration - is how it got its name. Though…” You laughed a bit, forming another groove with the blade. “It always seems like a far-fetched association to me. They’re usually cut in a cabochon style, which means that -- ...Have you seen cut gemstones?”

You shifted your attention to him in time to see him nod, and then you continued. “Well, you chose the cut based on the specific properties of the stone. A lot of gems look better if you cut them in facets, but the thing tiger’s eye has going for it is all the bands and layers, so you smooth it out into a curve. Anyway, tiger’s eye is a stone of prosperity, and it helps ward off bad luc -  ow!”

Flinching, you dropped your knife and brought your finger to your mouth, reflexively licking the bleeding cut. Idiot! You hadn’t been paying attention to what you’d been doing! Stupid, stupid, stupid and - oh, shit, where were Charlotte and Felix? You couldn’t see them where they’d been playing on the jungle-gym, nor could you catch sight of Frisk’s distinctive purple shirt. Where had they gotten to?

Panic coursed through you and you cursed yourself for getting distracted - but it only lasted for a few seconds as Sans tapped his finger against your arm and pointed. “over there.”

You followed his gaze, and - yep. There they all were, apparently teaming up to give Felix a makeover with what… seemed like dirt, sticks, and leaves. Or, perhaps, they were fashioning war paint for him? You stared flatly before sighing out, “Thanks.”

Praise the dark gods for Purell.

“no prob, uh… you okay, there? really knicked yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You pulled your finger out of your mouth, examining the cut and the fresh bubble of blood brimming out of it. “I’ll slap a band-aid on it; not the first time it’s happened.”

Sans watched as you retrieved a bottle of disinfecting solution from your purse, and, after that, a small tin of band-aids with little sparkly hearts printed on them. “...you’re certainly well-stocked, huh?”

A wry little smirk found its way onto your lips, and you looked down at him as you cleaned yourself up. “Pays to be prepared.”

“how much junk you got in there?” Sans reached out for your purse, an action you interrupted by flicking him on the forehead.

“Now _that_ is none of your business. Ah - shit,” you swore softly, looking down at your nice, floral-patterned blouse - the cream colored one that you’d just gotten blood on. Well. You could fix that, and - if you couldn’t, your good friend Mister Clean sure could.

Sans watched you retrieve _yet another_ mess-removal implement from your purse - this time, portable stain remover - and he couldn’t resist making another comment. “so, are you some sort of cosmopolitan laundromancer? what’s your deal?”

“Pft! No, my magic has nothing to do with making things tidy; that just comes from having two rambunctious children and an equally rambunctious wife.”

“...huh.” You noticed him glance at your empty left hand, and you were very, very glad he didn’t ask. “well. what kinda magic _do_ you do? is it gem stuff, or is that just a hobby?”

You glanced at Felix and Charlotte’s antics, watching them for a moment before depositing a few droplets onto your shirt. “Mmm. Describing what I do would be… a bit complicated, but I’ll try. I do most of my actual spellcraft with minerals and stuff, but my job is more to… know things.”

“uh-huh?” Sans prompted, clearly fishing for information. You supposed you couldn’t blame him, though you had to navigate this conversation carefully. There was a lot you couldn’t actually say.

“I’m a consultant. I know a lot about a lot of different things. It might help to know that the Curator seeks out my assistance a lot; ah - his specialty is in magical artifacts. He runs a museum in town, hence the name.” You put the little bottle back in your back and picked up the charm you were working on again. “That’s who this is for.”

“oh - wait. i’ve heard that name before; uh… he’s got some old monster artifacts in his care, right? stuff from before the war?”

You swept your thumb over your work, brushing away some of the shavings. Well, _this_ was a topic you’d have to tread carefully around. Maybe it’d been a bad idea mention him. You tried to gauge Sans’ reaction as you said, “Yeah, that’s him.”

The monster beside you didn’t seem to care too much, and you mentally eased up. “...he’s got some weird cat obsession, doesn’t he?”

An unrestrained laugh. “That’s putting it mildly. I’m pretty sure he’s the only person in the city who lets his cats wander around the museum and call them his employees.”

Sans eyed you for a moment. “...so how much did that factor into your choice to use _tiger’s eye_ in a present for him?”

Grinning, you winked at him and started carving again, the glittering shimmer of your band-aid reminding you to be cautious. “About fifty percent. He’ll appreciate it.”

Sans slumped farther into a lounge, and neither of you had anything to say for a few minutes until you idly broke the silence. “Thanks, by the way.”

“mmn?” He oozed, languidly shifting his gaze to you. “for what?”

You wondered if he was just playing dumb, or if he really hadn’t thought it’d meant anything to you. “Pointing them out to me earlier. It’s a load off my mind knowing someone else is keeping an eye out.”

Sans heaved a shrug. “eh. tori would skin me if i lost track of the kid, so. not really a big deal.”

“Toriel… I suppose if you’re watching her child, you’re good friends with her?”

“she’s pretty cool. we watch bad tv and have shitty drinks with paper umbrellas in ‘em.”

(Oh god, now you wanted a pina colada with the fury of a million suns. Oh god oh god oh _god)_

You played it cool. “Huh. I wouldn’t have guessed she was the type.”

That was a lie, actually, you’d absorbed enough information to get a pretty good handle on her personality, but… Well. There was no need to tell Sans that.

“she’s a surprising woman,” Sans grinned, and something about the way he’d said that made you think. You hadn’t really done any digging into Toriel’s personal relationships - it hadn’t been relevant to anything you needed to know and, honestly, seemed pretty creepy - but you knew she was separated from her husband, and here was a guy who spoke of her fondly and often seemed to take care of her child…

 _‘Uncle’_ , he’d described himself, and you wondered if he’d become more than that sometime in the indeterminate future.

Well. Not that it was any of your business. You were about to say something more when you heard a trio of feet stomping across the grass, and you looked up to see a merry procession headed directly for you, spearheaded by Charlotte, her black hair adorned with sprigs of leaves.

[Dad!] She signed emphatically as she approached. [Come be a princess with us!]

Frisk went straight to Sans, tugging on the sleeve of his blue sweatershit. His grin slowly widened, and he propped his chin up on his hand, looking them up and down. “and what do you want, kiddo?”

They made a pair of signs, one after the other - miming the sash of _prince_ and the tapping across their torso for _princess._ They pointed at Sans then, tugging on his sleeve with their other hand.

You repeated the signs for Sans, telling him their meaning as you did so. “It seems that they want us to be royalty with them,” you explained, and then looked at Charlotte. [Is that right?]

Beaming, she nodded and then pointed at Felix before her hands formed a flurry of signs. [He’s the dirt prince! When he grows up, he’s going to be the King of the Mushrooms, and the Mushroom Army is going to try to take over Frisk’s kingdom - the dog realm!]

[ _Dog realm?_ ] you repeated, asking for confirmation, and Frisk gave you a thumbs up. Apparently, Charlotte had taught them how to talk about their people.

“sure, i’ll play, as long as i can be the king of naps.”

Frisk crossed their arms, scowling at him before pointing him out again and miming out sleeping for Charlotte.

Charlotte responded by spelling out something and doing the motion for _boring,_ and you snorted. Despite their conversation, they seemed intent on getting Sans to tag along, because they both grabbed an arm and started heaving him up. Sans... sort of came willingly, in that he allowed himself to be slid off the bench until he ended up a skeletal puddle on the ground.

“Saaans,” Frisk whined as they tried to lift him to his feet with Charlotte’s aid.

“Dad! Pick him up!” Felix made the motion with his arms, and you sighed, unable to deny them their request.

“May I?” You asked, feeling bidden to seek permission as you kneeled down next to the struggle.

Sans lolled his head back. “eh, whatever floats your metaphorical boat, pal.”

“Right. Heave-ho, then.” You hooked your arms underneath the joints of Sans’ shoulder, hoisting him up along with you. His slipper clad feet dangled, and you belatedly realized that, oh, whoops, your hands were occupied now. You made sure Charlotte could see your mouth to compensate. “Where to?”

Charlotte lead the motley parade along, Sans swinging from your arms like a banner. Court had been set up a little ways ahead, a decent number of feet from the sandbox and near a bed of tulips that Frisk regally declared to be the royal gardens. That’s where you set Sans down, laying him parallel to the red and yellow blossoms before easing onto the ground yourself.

“Comfortable?” you asked, and received a lazy grunt in response.

In the end, the child-care duties were passed to you as Sans settled in for a snooze. Luckily, everyone was content with you staying mostly still while they played with your hair and watched you make funny faces while you told stories. At some point, you helped them bury Sans in leaves, and scolded Charlotte when she tried to stuff a fistful into Sans’ eye sockets. Though, when Sans had said, “yeah, i can’t beleaf this,” you’d retracted your decision and told her that she could do whatever she pleased in regards to her decorating efforts.

Sans had laughed, idly plucking a leaf out of his eye.

Eventually, they seemed to get bored of that game, and you’d wiped off their faces and straightened their clothes before sending them off to play on the jungle gym. Grateful for the reprieve, you leaned back on you hand, joining Sans in his lazing.

“How long are you going to keep that up?” you asked after about a minute or so.

“dunno. this is really growing on me.”

“Oh my god.”

“i think i’ll stick with it for awhile.”

“Oh my _god._ ”

“so until i em _bark_ on a new - ”

“ _OH MY GOD, STOP,”_ you whined, mashing your face into your hands. “You’re done. You’re finished. I’m turning you into the police. You’re going to be arrested for antisocial behavior, and you’ll deserve every day you spend in that jail cell.”

There was a pause, and you groaned loudly as Sans opened his mouth.

“i haven’t even said it, yet!”

“I can already _guess._ ” You reached over, plucking some of the foliage out of his eye-socket and dropping it into a pile beside him. “And if you keep that up, I’m going to have to ask you to make like a tree and… leaf.”

Sans let out an ugly snort of a laugh. “look at you, sinking to my level. hypocrite.”

You couldn’t help but grin as you set another stick on the grass. “Well, I’ve apparently been indoctrinated into the political structure of Dogland, so it’s only fitting. Everyone involved with politics is a hypocrite.”

“what title did they end up giving you, anyway? i kinda stopped paying attention.”

“Minister. Gender neutral, and… well. Someone has to advise all of the little royals.”

You’d cleared out one of his eyes enough for him to give you a look. “huh. aren’t ministers, like… the minister _of_ something? war, foreign affairs? what’re you the minister of?”

“Hmn.” Smiling wryly, you examined a rather alarmed caterpillar clinging to one of the twigs you’d pulled out of Sans’ eye. “Culture. I’d want to be the Minister of Culture.”

“huh.” Sans stared at the sky for a moment, then rolled over onto his side to face you. “like… art and stuff?”

“Mhmm. Art, music, theater, literature… A Minister of Culture would oversee all of that, managing governmental funding and organizing public functions.” You rested your cheek against your hand, examining Sans and his perpetual lounge of a grin. “Would you be the Minister of Naptime?”

“a possibility, though… sometimes it’s better to keep your hobby from becoming your job. maybe instead i’d be… the minister of extraneous hats? hmn. rad skateboard tricks? oh - how about the minister of silly walks? can’t possibly run a country without one of those.”

You snorted, then, glancing at your children briefly and making sure they hadn’t been maimed, mauled, kidnapped, or killed before returning your attention to your skeletal companion. “Are you making a Monty Python reference?”

He winked. “you caught me. yeah, it’s some quality tv.”

“I wouldn’t actually know. I’m just aware of the reference; I can’t actually watch television.”

Sans’ raised his browbone. “can’t?” he prodded, and - oh, yeah, monster. He probably wouldn’t actually know much about you and your kind, huh? A year wasn’t much time to absorb all of the nuances of human existence.

“Technology doesn’t really… function well around wizards. Cars, computers, phones - anything ‘advanced’ just sort of… shits itself and only half-works. Some of us call it the ‘technology ban’ to give a shorthand name to the phenomenon - though it’s a conceptual thing, not a cultural construct like an embargo or a prohibition.” A pause. “Er, well, here in Ebott, at any rate.”

“...okay, i have like, a million questions, so start elaborating.”

Amused, you smirked down at him. “What, you want a lecture? I can answer any questions you’d like, but you’ll have to be more specific.”

“ugh, that’s so much _effort._ fine. what, exactly, makes being a wizard so different that, like… what even happens, do light-bulbs explode when you walk into the room?”

“Nothing so dramatic! Everything is just very… finicky and staticy. Anyway, human magic - and that qualifier is necessary, monster magic is very different - works by… in essence, manipulating metaphysical constructs. The defining tenet of magic is _it happens because I believe it will happen,_ and everything else is just… describes ways to believe hard enough that it becomes real.”

“...okay,” Sans said slowly, verbally squinting at you. “but why can’t you just _believe_ you should be able to, i dunno, watch tv?”

“Because the world doesn’t believe I should be able to, and it’s very, very stubborn about the issue.”

“what do you mean, ‘the world’?”

“Oh, boy. Uh, that’s a big one - but… basically… wizards, magi, thaumaturges - whatever you like to call them… we manifest our magic by cultivating an _image_ for ourselves. Think of it, like… as faking it until you make it, I guess - human magic works because everybody believes it should work. And that belief allows us to overthrow a concept we call the ‘Grand Order’ - which… is… basically the term we give for… everything we consider to be ‘real’. Are you following me?”

“uh. sort… of? okay, so, let’s say - the grass is green. you’re saying that the grass is green because this thing you call the grand order says it’s green? and to make it not green, you’d have to… i dunno. supersede that?”

“Basically! Yes. I would have to use the power of belief to make the grass not be green, because if you believe hard enough, you can change the laws of the world itself.”

“...what the fuck? that sounds really stupid.”

You smiled and shrugged. “Hey, that’s what being a wizard is all about. That charm I was making? Manipulation of probability to bestow good fortune on the wearer. Here’s the thing, though - I can only do that through ‘belief’... so, to enable that… human magic has become steeped in tradition and culture. Old things are important, aren’t they? Think of our traditions as being like… a landmark. Everyone wants to visit the Hagia Sophia not only because it's beautiful, but also because it’s culturally and historically important. Our traditions are like that to us - because they’re been around so long, we can use them to convince the Grand Order that we have power, _importance…_ and that allows us to change the world itself.”

“...what’s the hagia sophia.”

“Ah… it’s a building in Turkey. Istanbul, to be more precise. It’s very famous.”

“oh.” a pause. “that sounds like a whole lot of weird bullshit, but, okay, i guess. so… how does that work? with the charm?”

“Well. Tiger’s eye is a stone that’s supposed to impart good fortune - people believe that. It’s an association we’ve passed down for… ages, so I can use the power in that stone to manipulate probability. The same is true with the pattern I was carving - it means _luck_ and _eternity._ And… it’s that kind of thing that affects our ability to use technology. Well. At least, that’s what people think. No one is really certain.” You watched Charlotte and Felix for a few moments before continuing. “Because… our traditions… are so old, and we rely on them so much… the world itself can’t imagine us in the presence of things that are _new._ It tells us that we belong in workshops with old, dusty books, because… that’s how we’ve been for so long. And lots of wizards are content with that. They don’t like all this new-fangled gadgetry.”

“why not?”

“They’re afraid it’ll take our job away from us. We make miracles - but… what happens when humans can make miracles from metal? ...Won’t we be a little redundant, then?”

Sans mused on this for a moment. “you don’t really sound like you believe that, though.”

“Nah, I don’t, really, but… well. The Primus - our leader - is a modern man - and also is a wriggly little fucker who’s good at getting around the ban. Because of him, a lot of magi have come up with clever little solutions that let them do things like listen to the radio and use washing machines. That’s definitely not the case in a lot of places. Culture influences - and is influenced by - the values of the ruling class, though… it’s hardly dictated by just one person.” You leaned back, lounging on your elbows. “Society is an amalgamation of it’s history, it's traditions, and - it’s art. Things like books? Poetry? They have a lot of influence on the world. ...I’ve gotten sort of off topic though, I think.”

“...i can see why you said you’d be a minister of culture,” Sans said after he’d absorbed that, and you laughed.

“What can I say?” you grinned, your humor improved substantially from where it was before. Talking to Sans really had a way of cheering you up - although it helped that he’d let you babble about pretentious bullshit that you were interested in.

“...out of curiousity, what _exactly_ do you do for a livin-- “

Sans’ question was interrupted by you finally noticing what Felix was getting up to, and you snapped up, pushing yourself into a crouch. “Sweetie! Are you -- eating something off the _ground?”_

“Char and Frisk dared me to eat a grasshopper!”

“What -- no!”  You stood, striding over to him. “Don’t do that!”

“But it was a double-dog dare! I _gotta!”_

“No, you don’t _gotta,”_ you replied, scowling at the mischievous pair - neither of which had the decency to look particularly ashamed of themselves. [Stop convincing your brother to do gross things!]

[He wanted to!] Charlotte defended herself with broad strokes. [It’s not my fault.]

[Don’t enable him, then!] You chided, and Sans watched you with a particularly amused expression on his face.

You didn’t seem malicious, but he was kind of curious about you, now. It was your job to _know_ things, huh…? What exactly did _that_ mean?


End file.
